


Trifling

by Synchron



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Biting, Creampie, Devil Trigger (Devil May Cry) Sex, F/M, Hand Jobs, Marathon Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Table Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 13:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synchron/pseuds/Synchron
Summary: A (late) birthday fic for DrawnCherry here on AO3!! I believe the tags are enough of a giveaway as to what this one shot is...





	Trifling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DrawnCherry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrawnCherry/gifts).

> HAPPY (BELATED) BIRTHDAY BB!!! I hope you had a wonderful day on the 17th, and I also hope that this is to your liking?! 😭🙏 Thank you so much for your support and for reaching out to me, it truly means a lot!! ❤️

You don't know how you're still managing to keep up. Your voice is hoarse, your limbs are heavy, and your mind is hazy and numb to everything except for Vergil's cock still drilling into you. It's been hours now… or so you think. It's hard to tell how long it's  _ really _ been when you can barely keep up with his feverish thrusting, still so eager when he's already pumped you full of his cum twice, with no signs of slowing down.   
  
But you're not complaining. Not with how full he stuffs you on each stroke, with how easily he slips in and out of you, a combination of your fluids and his cum letting him glide smoothly right to the hilt with each snap of his hips against your ass. You're only half aware that you're biting right through your discarded shirt that you propped under your head, voice tearing your throat in a muffled scream as he forces another orgasm to shred what remains of your cognition. Vergil has always been a generous lover, though perhaps not in any conventional way. He is conservative in his touches and his tenderness, but as soon as the bedroom door closes, as soon as he strips you of your clothing, layer by layer, piece by piece, you see him for the true demon he is.   
  
And all the more, during those two days (assuming you let him fuck it all out) where no matter how much, how often, how hard he fucks into you, he just cannot get enough.   
  
Vergil in his heat is not someone to trifle with.   
  
You feel him lean over you against the table, his body, always radiating that intense warmth, pressing flush against the damp skin of your back as he licks a broad stripe with the flat of his tongue between your shoulder blades. His hips, in their clamor, presses firmly up against your ass, the force of his thrust making the table skid along the floor as he buries himself to the hilt in your cunt as he cums again, urged on by your fluttering walls milking and massaging his cock. The milky fluid, thick and viscous, dribbles out of you in spurts, pouring down your legs to pool onto the floor, your narrow channel simply unable to cope with the sheer amount that he's slowly, but vigorously, and oh so eagerly been pumping into you over the last few hours.   
  
That probably plays a large part in why you feel so full too.   
  
His lips skim your marked skin, grey eyes flickering between each half crescent his teeth have been leaving in your back, your shoulder, your arms, your thighs, anywhere his mouth can reach, and it's on a particularly insistent clench of your cunt around his cock that with a rumbling groan, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder again. Not hard enough to break the skin,  _ never _ hard enough to break the skin, but still so that he feels you shudder and whine against him, mewling his name in the way he loves so much. He feels you arch your back up into him, feels you reach back to comb your fingers through his sweaty hair. And posed like that, the two of you remain for nearly another full minute, with his mouth sealed over your shoulder, his breaths coming out in hot puffs, fanning out over your skin, letting your body take all that he has to give you. Every pulse. Every drop.    
  
Vergil's teeth bite down a little harder, and you swear his teeth feel a little different than before. Somehow bigger, somehow more cutting, the edges pricking into your salty skin. When he hears you give a tired whine, he releases you, gently laving his tongue, now rougher, hotter, over the already red mark he's left behind. He knows you're tired, knows you're spent, but he's still so hard, even as he lifts off you, as he slowly, torturously drags his ribbed cock out of you, revelling as each ridge pulls past your tight cunt.   
  
Wait, ridges?   
  
You slowly prop yourself up on your elbows, turning to look back at the man standing behind you. What you see has you breathing out a half moan.   
  
Scales are forming on the expanse of his chest, creeping up his neck in an uneven pattern. The armoured plates of his demonic form are beginning to form over his shoulders, the ridging extending down his chest in that 'V' pattern you love tracing with your fingertips. But it's his eyes that are always the most striking. They've always been fascinating to you, that gentle grey that can change as suddenly as the weather. They glow with such a bright, bold blue now, his pupils narrowing into mere slits, hungry and predatory. His tongue peeks out between his lips, as uniformly ribbed as his cock, swiping across them and making your heart and (more notably) your cunt clench over nothing.   
  
It isn't often that he lets his control slip like this, typically only when he's exceptionally aroused, but how could he not be, when you're splayed so openly for him on the table? When your sweet cunt is dripping with your slick and his cum? When you coyly wiggle your hips in that enticing way he loves?   
  
"I know you're not finished yet, Vergil," your voice is but a breathy croak at this point, but it hits Vergil's ear just right - a reminder that he's the only one who gets to do this to you, to see you this way. His cock throbs with need at the thought of it. "I know you can take me harder than this."   
  
There's something primal in the noise that erupts from his chest, something between a snarl and a low rumble. Vergil's clawed hands are reaching for you now, flipping you over onto your back and dragging you towards him. He wants to thrust back into your welcoming heat, but you push yourself up and plant a firm hand on his chest before he can do so, your fingertips gently massaging the smooth, leathery scales that continue to spread all over him. He's surprisingly soft in all the places where his plating doesn't reach.   
  
"Then why are you stopping me?" Vergil's voice comes out raspy and distorted - a virtue of the pure demonic energy that emanates from him. It's such a pleasing, animalistic sound.   
  
You smile and slowly, tiredly, drag your hand down his chest, both of your gazes following it until it reaches his cock. It's thicker now, the glans more apparent (and all the better to suckle on, as you've come to intimately know), and those ridges you felt yourself spasm over as he pulled out of you earlier are all the more apparent now. He's beautiful like this. Perfect. You hum in delight as you close your hand around him, thumb massaging the minor bulge at the base of his cock. It'll swell with time. You know that intimately well too.   
  
Vergil leans in to you, one large clawed hand resting on your outer thigh, the other planting itself on the table to keep himself anchored in place. When you begin to pump him, you make sure you drag your entire hand over each of protrusion along his length, and when you twist your hand to thumb at his engorged glans, spreading his searing precum, you feel Vergil's head drop to your shoulder, feel him angle his head into your sweaty throat to bite and suck at your pulse. He gives a pleased purr that rumbles right through your being, sending pleasurable waves directly to your cunt. But you don't stop.   
  
His hips are thrusting shallowly into your hand, timing them to meet you on the downward stroke to get the most traction, the most friction, the most pleasure, all the while biting at your skin with now pointed teeth and licking the salt of your sweat away with that rugged tongue. It doesn't take long until his hips become more desperate. The purring that comes from deep within his throat becomes a growl. And then a hiss. And then a snarl. Vergil loves it when you handle him like this, loves the feel of your soft hand wrapped around him, loves how you know to gently pinch his cockhead to milk another stream of precum from him.   
  
But that isn't what he wants right now.   
  
He wants to cum in you. He wants to breed you. He wants you to be so full of his seed that you're leaking him for  _ days _ afterwards.   
  
This isn't enough, it isn't enough,  _ this won't do _ !!   
  
Your own moan is drowned out by his feral snarl as his hips stutter against your hand. His cock hardens again, twitches once, and then you feel strings of searing hot cum paint stripes over your stomach and you swear you nearly orgasm as well. It's a near endless load, even with you squeezing him to drain every last drop. In fact, some of his plentiful spurts even reach as far up as your breasts, but you love that too. You love everything about him. He could cover you from head to toe, and you'd thank him and ask for more.   
  
And he would give it. He would give you anything you asked for.   
  
"Vergil…" you gasp, and you just know your face is contorted into one of pure need. It makes you wonder who between you is currently in their heat right now. He doesn't answer you though. At least not verbally. He clumsily ruts against you, the underside of his cock sliding through your folds to adequately lubricate himself, though you heartily believe such prep isn't necessary when your cunt is as much of a wet, sloppy mess as it currently is. "Fuck me, Vergil."   
  
A vague sound of exertion comes from your lover as one hand reaches up to angle your face to meet his. Claws prick the skin of your throat, but you're lost in the feel of his rough tongue mingling with yours and how he finally slams back into your greedy, pulsing cunt with one forceful thrust. The pace he sets is immediately desperate and bruising, making you mewl pathetically into his mouth. Your hands claw at any part of him you can reach; the pointed curve of his hips; the barbs on his chest; the plates at his shoulders that you swear are there for the sole purpose of you clinging to them; his hair that's matted to his head with sweat. Fuck, even though you've already reached that glorious peak so many times already, Vergil has you effortlessly barrelling towards another soul crushing orgasm with every drag of his cock.   
  
The bulb that sits at the base of him has indeed swollen by now, and you feel one of Vergil's hands cup your ass to lift you off the table, giving him a better angle for him to slowly push it inside you. You break his sloppy kiss with a wet smack, feeling his knot stretch your tight hole, sending electricity shooting to the very tips of your toes.   
  
"Yes--" Your mind is a broken mess, words only barely forming over the heavy fog of pleasure. "Yesyesyesfuckmewithit…!"   
  
Another growl is your reply, but you feel Vergil comply with your frantic request. It's slow at first, a pace for you to get acclimated to the sensation of having to stretch around his girth, and you can swear over the racing of hearts, and the tumult of the frenzy in the air, you can hear him slip in and out of you with a series of wet pops and squelches. Vergil pulls back slightly, pointed teeth and tongue scraping their way down your throat until he comes face to face with one of your nipples, giving it a tentative lick, playing with and teasing it with the tip of his tongue before he draws it into his mouth and sucks. It just makes you tighten ever more around him, anticipating the moment he too loses his patience and just fucks you into oblivion. It shouldn't be long now.   
  
And it isn't.   
  
His hips quicken, his hands tighten against you, and that knot, that glorious bulge begins to fuck you in earnest, with you humming and moaning and writhing each time you feel it push into your cunt. A welcoming rush of air greets you amongst the suffocating heat in the room, as Vergil unfurls his great wings. You can hear something get knocked over in the distance - probably a lamp or something, not that you really care right now - and then they're slamming onto the table behind you, the claws that protrude from them digging into the wood to give him all the more leverage to rut into you with. Faster and faster, higher and higher he urges you, and with one finally delirious push inside you, Vergil sheathes himself as far as you'll take him, and you both cum. His teeth bite into you again, sinking into your breast and no doubt leaving a ring of pin pricks around your areola, but it's a minor pain at best, completely overshadowed by an orgasm so intense that your thighs are quaking. All you're able to do is arch into him, smiling in a euphoric bliss as you feel his cock throb and twitch inside you, filling you again with his roiling, rampant seed. His wings shift on the table, adjusting their position with a dull thud and another sound of splintering wood. Vergil's inside you for what feels like entire minutes, letting your walls tighten and spasm and flutter around him to milk him until he's completely empty. On each pulse, you can feel him shudder in full body jolts. There's so much of his seed leaking out of you, even in spite of the impossibly tight seal you have around his cock, that it's dripping to the floor in thick torrents. The claws on his wings tremble, digging deeper into the wooden table in a display of desperation he can't direct towards your soft, fragile body.   
  
Eventually, the pulsing stops. Both of your breathing slows. The electric crackle in the air begins to dissipate. But Vergil doesn't return to his human form. When he lifts his head, you see that the scales have spread further up his face, the sclera of his eyes have darkened to a near pitch black, accenting the intense glow of his eyes. You're utterly limp and boneless in his arms, but Vergil's strong arms support you, rub almost tenderly at your sticky skin.   
  
"I'm not finished with you yet." He rumbles. You only laugh breathlessly, mind far too gone to muster up a reply. You wouldn't have it any other way.   
  
After all, Vergil in his heat is not someone to trifle with.


End file.
